Chapter L: S., a Warwickshire correspondent, communicates this Easter custom to (10)

1808. Sir John Carter, knt. died at Portsmouth, his native town, aged sixty-seven. He was an alderman, and nine times mayor of the borough; and a magistrate of the county, for which he also served the office of sheriff in 1784. His name is here introduced to commemorate an essential service that he rendered to his country, by his mild and judicious conduct during the mutiny at Spithead, in the spring of 1797. The sailors having lost three of their body in consequence of the resistance made to their going on board the London, then bearing the flag of admiral Colpoys, wished to bury them in Kingston churchyard, and to carry them in procession through the town of Portsmouth. This request was most positively refused them by the governor. They then applied to sir John Carter to grant their request, who endeavoured to convince the governor of the propriety and necessity of complying with it, declaring that he would be answerable for the peace of the town, and the orderly conduct of the sailors. The governor would not be prevailed on, and prepared for resistance; and resistance on both sides would most probably have been resorted to, had not the calmness, perseverance, and forbearance of sir John Carter at length compromised the affair, by obtaining permission for the sailors to pass through the garrison of Portsmouth in procession, and the bodies to be landed at the Common Hard in Portsea, where the procession was to join them.

So great was sir John Carter’s influence over the sailors, that they most scrupulously adhered to the terms he prescribed to them in their procession to the grave. Two of their comrades having become “a little groggy” after they came on shore, they were carefully locked up in a room by themselves, lest they should become quarrelsome, or be unable to conduct themselves with propriety. It was a most interesting spectacle. Sir John accompanied them himself through the garrison, to prevent any insult being offered to them. At the Common Hard he was joined by Mr. Godwin, the friend and associate of his youth, and also a most worthy magistrate of this borough. They attended the procession till it had passed the fortifications at Portsea: every thing was conducted with the greatest decorum. When the sailors returned, and were sent off to their respective ships, two or three of the managing delegates came to sir John, to inform him that the men were all gone on board, and to thank him for his great goodness to them. Sir John seized the opportunity of inquiring after their admiral, as these delegates belonged to the London. “Do you know him, your honour?” “Yes; I have a great respect for him, and I hope you will not do him any harm.” “No, by G--d, your honour, he shall not be hurt.” It was at that time imagined admiral Colpoys would be hung at the yard-arm, and he had prepared for this event by arranging his affairs and making his will. In this will he had left to the widows of the three men who were so unfortunately killed an annuity of 20_l._ each. The next morning, however, the admiral was privately, unexpectedly, and safely brought on shore, though pursued by a boat from the Mars, as soon as they suspected what was transacting. The delegates brought him to sir John Carter, and delivered him to his care: they then desired to have a receipt for him, as a proof to their comrades that they had safely delivered him into the hands of the civil power; and this receipt he gave. The admiral himself, in his first appearance at court afterwards, acknowledged to the king that he owed his life to sir John Carter, and assured his majesty that his principles were misinterpreted and his conduct misrepresented, and that he had not a more faithful and worthy subject in his dominions. Notwithstanding this, the duke of Portland, then secretary of state for the home department, received a very strong letter against him, which letter his grace sent to sir John, assuring him at the same time that the government placed the utmost confidence in his honour, integrity, and patriotism, and concluded by proposing to offer a large reward for the discovery of the writer: this, with a dignified consciousness of the purity of his conduct, sir John declined; though, from some well-founded conjectures, the discovery might possibly have been easily made. This inestimable consciousness enabled him to meet with the greatest composure every effort of party rage to sully his reputation and destroy his influence. So pure were his principles, that when in the year 1806 he was offered a baronetage by Mr. Fox, he declined it on the ground that he believed the offer to have been made for his undeviating attachment to Mr. Fox’s politics; and that, to accept it, would be a manifest departure from his principles. In every public and domestic relationship he was uniformly mild, impartial, and upright; nor was he ever deterred by persona, difficulties or inconveniences from a faithful, and even minute attendance on his widely extended duties. The poor in him ever found a friend, and the unfortunate a protector. The peace, comfort, and happiness of others, and not his own interest, were the unwearied objects of his pursuit. Never was there a character in which there was less of self than in his.

MANURES.

Rambling in cultivated spots renders one almost forgetful of cultivating friends. On the subject of “manure,” the editor of the _Every-Day Book_ has no competent knowledge; he has not settled in his own mind whether he should decide for “long straw or short straw,” and as regards himself would willingly dispose of the important question by “drawing _cuts_;” all he can at present do for his country readers, is to tell them what lord Bacon affirms; his lordship says that “muck should be spread.” This would make a capital text or vignette for a dissertation; but there is no space here to dissertate, and if Messrs. Taylor and Hessey’s _London Magazine_, for May, had not suggested the subject, it would scarcely have occurred. There the reviewer of “Gaieties and Gravities” has extracted some points from that work, which are almost equal to the quantity of useful information derivable from more solid books--here they are:--

_Gaieties._

“Residing upon the eastern coast, and farming a considerable extent of country, I have made repeated and careful experiments with this manure; and as the mode of burial in many parts of the Continent divides the different classes into appropriated portions of the churchyard, I have been enabled, by a little bribery to sextons and charnel-house men, to obtain specimens of every rank and character, and to ascertain with precision their separate qualities and results for the purposes of the farmer, botanist, or common nurseryman. These it is my purpose to communicate to the reader, who may depend upon the caution with which the different tests were applied, as well as upon the fidelity with which they are reported.

“A few cartloads of citizens’ bones gave me a luxuriant growth of London pride, plums, Sibthorpia or base money-wort, mud-wort, bladder-wort, and mushrooms; but for laburnum or golden chain, I was obliged to select a lord mayor. Hospital bones supplied me with cyclamen in any quantity, which I intermixed with a few seeds from the Cyclades Islands, and the scurvy-grass came up spontaneously; while manure from different fields of battle proved extremely favourable to the hæmanthus or blood-flower, the trumpet-flower and laurel, as well as to widow-wail and cypress. A few sample skulls from the poet’s corner of a German abbey furnished poet’s cassia, grass of Parnassus, and bays, in about equal quantities, with wormwood, crab, thistle, stinging-nettle, prickly holly, teasel, and loose-strife. Courtiers and ministers, when converted into manure, secured an ample return of jack-in-a-box, service-apples, climbers, supple-jacks, parasite plants, and that species of sun-flower which invariably turns to the rising luminary. Nabobs form a capital compost for hepatica, liver-wort, spleen-wort, hips, and pine; and from those who had three or four stars at the India-house, I raised some particularly fine China asters. A good show of adonis, narcissus, jessamine, cockscomb, dandelion, money-flower, and buckthorn, may be obtained from dandies, although they are apt to encumber the ground with tickweed; while a good drilling with _dandisettes_ is essential to those beds in which you wish to raise Venus’s looking-glass, Venus’s catchfly, columbines, and love-apples. A single dressing of jockies will ensure you a quick return of horse-mint, veronica or speedwell, and colt’s-foot; and a very slight layer of critics suffices for a good thick spread of scorpion senna, viper’s bugloss, serpent’s tongue, poison-nut, nightshade, and hellebore. If you are fond of raising stocks, manure your bed with jobbers; wine-merchants form the most congenial stimulant for sloes, fortune-hunters for the marygold and goldenrod, and drunkards for Canary wines, mad-wort and horehound. Failing in repeated attempts to raise the chaste tree from the bones of nuns, which gave me nothing but liquorice-root, I applied those of a dairy-maid, and not only succeeded perfectly in my object, but obtained a good crop of butter-wort, milk-wort, and heart’s-ease. I was equally unsuccessful in raising any sage, honesty, or everlasting from monks; but they yielded a plentiful bed of monk’s hood, or jesuit’s bark, medlars, and cardinal flowers. My importation of shoemakers was unfortunately too scanty to try their effect upon a large scale, but I contrived to procure from them two or three ladies’ slippers. As school-boys are raised by birch, it may be hardly necessary to mention, that when reduced to manure, they return the compliment; but it may be useful to make known as widely as possible, that dancing-masters supply the best hops and capers, besides quickening the growth of the citharexylum or fiddle-wood. For your mimosas or sensitive plants there is nothing better than a layer of novel-readers, and you may use up the first bad author that you can disinter for all the poppies you may require. Coffee-house waiters will keep you supplied in cummin; chronologists furnish the best dates, post-office men serve well for rearing scarlet-runners, poulterers for hen-bane, tailors for cabbage, and physicians for truffles, or any thing that requires to be quickly buried. I could have raised a few bachelors’ buttons from the bones of that class; but as nobody cares a button for bachelors, I did not think it worth while. As a general remark it may be noticed, that young people produce the passion-flower in abundance, while those of a more advanced age may be beneficially used for the elder-tree, the sloe, and snapdragon; and with respect to different nations, my experiments are only sufficiently advanced to enable me to state that Frenchmen are favourable to garlic, and that Poles are very good for hops. Of mint I have never been able to raise much; but as to thyme, I have so large a supply, as the reader will easily perceive, that I am enabled to throw it away; and as he may not possibly be in a similar predicament, I shall refer him for the rest of my experiments to the records of the Horticultural Society.”

* * * * *

It is noticed by Dr. Forster, that about this time the purple goatsbeard _tragopogon porrifolius_ and the yellow goatsbeard _tragopogon pratensis_ begin to blow; and that of all the indices in the HOROLOGIUM FLORÆ the above plants are the most regular: they open their flowers at sunrise, and shut them so regularly at mid-day, that they have been called by the whimsical name of _go to bed at noon_. They are as regular as a clock, and are mentioned as such in the following verses:--

RETIRED LEISURE’S DELIGHT.

To sit and smoke between two rows of Limes,
Along the wall of some neat old Dutch town,
In noontide heat, and hear the jingling chimes
From Stadhouse Steeple; then to lay one down
Upon a Primrose bank, where Violet flowers
Smell sweetly, and the meads in bloomy prime,
’Till Flora’s clock, the Goat’s Beard, mark the hours,
And closing says, Arise, ’tis dinner time;
Then dine on Pyes and Cauliflower heads,
And roam away the afternoon in Tulip Beds.

To give an idea of the general face of nature at this period, Dr. Forster composed the subjoined

_Catalogue of Plants which compose the_ VERNAL FLORA _in the Garden_.

COMMON PEONY _Paeonia officinalis_ in full blow.

SLENDERLEAVED PEONY _P. tenuifolia_ going off.

CRIMSON PEONY _P. peregrina_.

DWARF PEONY _P. humilis_.

TULIP _Tulipa Gesneriana_ in infinite varieties.

MONKEY POPPY _Papaver Orientale_.

WELCH POPPY _P. Cambricum_.

PALE POPPY _P. nudicaule_.

EUROPEAN GLOBEFLOWER _Trollius Europaeus_.

ASIATIC GLOBEFLOWER _Trollius Asiaticus_.

BACHELOR’S BUTTONS _Ranunculus aeris plenus_.

BIFLOWERED NARCISSUS _N. biflorus_.

POETIC NARCISSUS _N. poeticus_.

GERMAN FLEUR DE LIS _Iris Germanica_, two varieties.

LURID IRIS _Iris lurida_.

WALLFLOWER _Chieranthus cheiri_, numerously, both single and double sorts.

STOCK GILLIFLOWER _Chiranthus fruticulosus_ beginning. Of this plant there are red, white, and purple varieties; also double Stocks.

YELLOW ASPHODEL _Asphodelus luteus_.

COLUMBINE _Aquilegia vulgaris_ begins to flower, and has several varieties in gardens.

GREAT STAR OF BETHLEHEM _Ornithogalum umbellatum_.

PERUVIAN SQUILL _Scilla Peruviana_.

YELLOW AZALEA _Azalea Pontica_.

SCARLET AZALEA _Azalea nudiflora_.

PURPLE GOATSBEARD _Tragopogon porrifolius_.

YELLOW GOATSBEARD _Tragopogon pratensis_.

MOTHERWORT _Hesperis matronalis_ begins to blow.

GREAT LEOPARD’S BANE _Doronicum pardalianches_.

LESSER LEOPARD’S BANE _Doronicum plantagineum_.

RAMSHORNS or MALE ORCHIS _O. mascula_ still blows.

FEMALE ORCHIS _Orchis morio_ still flowers.

_In the Fields._

THE HAREBELL _Scylla nutans_ makes the ground blue in some places.

BULBOUS CROWFOOT _Ranunculus bulbosus_.

CREEPING CROWFOOT _R. repens_ now common.

UPRIGHT MEADOW CROWFOOT _R. acris_ the latest of all.

ROUGH CROWFOOT _R. hirsutus_ not so common as the above. The fields are quite yellow with the above genus.

MEADOW LYCHNIS _Lychnis Flos Cuculi_.

CAMPION LYCHNIS _Lychnis dioica_ under hedges in our chalky soils.

GERMANDER SPEEDWELL _Veronica chamaedris_ on banks, covering them with its lively blue, comparable only to the Borage, or the _Cynoglossum Omphalodes_, still blowing and luxuriant in gardens.

MOUSEAR SCORPION GRASS _Myosotus Scorpioides_.

OUR LADY’S SMOCK _Cardamine pratensis_.

BITTER LADY’S SMOCK _Cardamine amara_.

HEDGE GERANIUM _Geranium Robertianum_; also several other wild Geraniums.

KIDLOCK _Sinapis arvensis_.

CHARLOCK _Raphanus Raphanistrum_.

STICHWORT _Stellaria Holostea_.

YELLOW WATER LILY _Nuphar luteum_ in ponds and rivers.

WHITE WATER LILY _Nymphea alba_ in the same.

We might add numerous others, which will be found noticed on the days when they usually first flower. Besides these, many of the plants of the Primaveral Flora still remain in blow, as violets, hearteases, hepaticas, narcissi, some hyacinths, marsh marigolds, wood anemonies, garden anemonies, &c. &c. The cuckoo pint, or lord and lady Arum, is now in prime.

The nations among whom a taste for flowers was first discovered to prevail in modern times, were China, Persia, and Turkey. The vegetable treasures of the eastern world were assembled at Constantinople, whence they passed into Italy, Germany, and Holland, and from the latter into England; and since botany has assumed the character of a science, we have laid the whole world under contribution for trees, and shrubs, and flowers, which we have not only made our own, but generally improved in vigour and beauty. The passion for flowers preceded that of ornamental gardening. The Dutch system of straight walks, enclosed by high clipped hedges of yew or holly, at length prevailed; and tulips and hyacinths bloomed under the sheltered windings of the “Walls of Troy,” most ingeniously traced in box and yew. A taste for gardening, which, however formal, is found at length to be preferable to the absurd winding paths, and the close imitation of wild nature by art, which modern garden-makers have pretended to of late years. The learned baron Maseres used to say, “Such a garden was to be had every where wild in summer, and in a garden formality was preferable.”

_Proverbs relating to May._

A cold May and a windy
Makes a fat barn and a findy.

A hot May makes a fat churchyard.

_Proverbs relating to the Weather and Seasons generally._

Collected by Dr. Forster.

Drought never bred dearth in England.

Whoso hath but a mouth, shall ne’er in England suffer drought.

When the sand doth feed the clay,
England woe and welladay;
But when the clay doth feed the sand,
Then it is well with Angle land.

After a famine in the stall,
Comes a famine in the hall.

When the cuckoo comes to the bare thorn,
Sell your cow, and buy your corn;
But when she comes to the full bit,
Sell your corn, and buy your sheep.

If the cock moult before the hen,
We shall have weather thick and thin;
But if the hen moult before the cock,
We shall have weather hard as a block.

As the days lengthen, so the cold strengthen.

If there be a rainbow in the eve, it will rain and leave,
But if there be a rainbow in the morrow, it will neither lend nor
borrow.

A rainbow in the morning
Is the shepherd’s warning;
But a rainbow at night
Is the shepherd’s delight.

No tempest, good July,
Lest corn come off blue by.

When the wind’s in the east,
It’s neither good for man nor beast.
When the wind’s in the south,
It’s in the rain’s mouth.

When the wind’s in the south,
It blows the bait into the fishes’ mouth.

No weather is ill,
If the wind be still.

When the sloe-tree is as white as a sheet,
Sow your barley, whether it be dry or wet.

A green winter makes a fat churchyard.

Hail brings frost in the tail.

A snow year, a rich year.

Winter’s thunder’s summer’s wonder.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Mouse Ear. _Hieracium Pilosella._
Dedicated to _St. Eric_.

~May 19.~

_St. Peter Celestine_, Pope, A. D. 1296. _St. Pudentiana._ _St.
Dunstan_; Abp. of Canterbury, A. D. 988.

_St. Dunstan._

He was born at Glastonbury, of which monastery he became abbot, and died archbishop of Canterbury in 988.[146]

The legend of St. Dunstan relates many miracles of him, the most popular of which is to this effect; that St. Dunstan, as the fact really was, became expert in goldsmith’s work; it then gives as a story, that while he was busied in making a chalice, the devil annoyed him by his personal appearance, and tempted him; whereupon St. Dunstan suddenly seized the fiend by the nose with a pair of iron tongs, burning hot, and so held him while he roared and cried till the night was far spent.

There is an engraved portrait of St. Dunstan thus detaining the devil in bondage, with these lines, or lines to that effect beneath; they are quoted from memory:--

St. Dunstan, as the story goes,
Once pull’d the devil by the nose
With red-hot tongs, which made him roar,
That he was heard three miles or more.

On lord mayor’s day, in 1687, the pageants of sir John Shorter, knt. as lord mayor, were very splendid. He was of the company of goldsmiths, who, at their own expense, provided one of the pageants representing this miracle of St. Dunstan. It must have been of amazing size, for it was a “Hieroglyphic of the Company,” consisting of a spacious laboratory or workhouse, containing several conveniences and distinct apartments, for the different operators and artificers, with forges, anvils, hammers, and all instruments proper for the mystery of the goldsmiths. In the middle of the frontispiece, on a rich golden chair of state, sat ST. DUNSTAN, the ancient patron and tutelar guardian of the company. He was attired, to express his prelatical dignity and canonization, in a robe of fine lawn, with a cope over it of shining cloth of gold reaching to the ground. He wore a golden mitre beset with precious stones, and bore in his left hand a golden crosier, and in his right a pair of goldsmith’s tongs. Behind him were Orpheus and Amphion playing on melodious instruments; standing more forward were the cham of Tartary, and the grand sultan, who, being “conquered by the christian harmony, seemed to sue for reconcilement.” At the steps of the prelatical throne were a goldsmith’s forge and furnace, with fire, crucibles, and gold, and a workman blowing the bellows. On each side was a large press of gold and silver plate. Towards the front were shops of artificers and jewellers all at work, with anvils, hammers, and instruments for enamelling, beating out gold and silver plate; on a step below St. Dunstan, sat an assay-master, with his trial-balance and implements. There were two apartments for the processes of disgrossing, flatting, and drawing gold and silver wire, and the fining, melting, smelting, refining, and separating of gold and silver, both by fire and water. Another apartment contained a forge, with miners in canvass breeches, red waistcoats and red caps, bearing spades, pickaxes, twibbles, and crows for sinking shafts and making adits. The lord mayor, having approached and viewed the curiosity of the pageant, was addressed in

A SPEECH BY ST. DUNSTAN.

Waked with this musick from my silent urn,
Your patron DUNSTAN comes t’ attend your turn.
AMPHION and old ORPHEUS playing by,
To keep our _forge_ in tuneful harmony.
These pontifical ornaments I wear,
Are types of rule and order all the year.
In these white robes none can a fault descry,
Since all have liberty as well as I:
Nor need you fear the shipwreck of your cause,
Your loss of charter or the penal laws,
Indulgence granted by your bounteous prince,
Makes for that loss too great a recompence.
This charm the Lernæan Hydra will reclaim;
Your patron shall the tameless rabble tame.
Of the proud CHAM I scorn to be afear’d;
I’ll take the angry SULTAN by the beard.
Nay, should the DEVIL intrude amongst your foes
[_Enter Devil_

_Devil._ What then?

_St. Dunstan._---------- Snap, thus, I have him by the nose!

The most prominent feature in the devil’s face being held by St. Dunstan’s tongs, after the prelate had duly spurned the submission of the cham of Tartary and the grand sultan, a silversmith with three other workmen proceeding to the great anvil, commenced working a plate of massy metal, singing and keeping time upon the anvil.[147]

CHRONOLOGY.

1536. Anne Boleyn, queen of Henry VIII., fell a victim to his brutal passions by the hands of the executioner.

1692. The great sea battle off la Hogue.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Monk’s hood. _Aconitum Napellus._
Dedicated to _St. Dunstan_.

[146] Butler.

[147] Hone, on Ancient Mysteries.

~May 20.~

_St. Bernardin_ of Sienna, A. D. 1444. _St. Ethelbert_, King of the
East Angles, A. D. 793. _St. Yvo_, Bp. of Chartres, A. D. 1115.

ON BEING CONFINED TO SCHOOL ONE PLEASANT MORNING IN SPRING.

The morning sun’s enchanting rays
Now call forth every songster’s praise;
Now the lark, with upward flight,
Gaily ushers in the light;
While wildly warbling from each tree,
The birds sing songs to Liberty.

But for me no songster sings,
For me no joyous lark up-springs;
For I, confined in gloomy school,
Must own the pedant’s iron rule,
And, far from sylvan shades and bowers,
In durance vile, must pass the hours;
There con the scholiast’s dreary lines,
Where no bright ray of genius shines,
And close to rugged learning cling,
While laughs around the jocund spring.

How gladly would my soul forego
All that arithmeticians know,
Or stiff grammarians quaintly teach,
Or all that industry can reach,
To taste each morn of all the joys
That with the laughing sun arise;
And unconstrain’d to rove along
The bushy brakes and glens among;
And woo the muse’s gentle power,
In unfrequented rural bower!
But, ah! such heaven-approaching joys
Will never greet my longing eyes;
Still will they cheat in vision fine,
Yet never but in fancy shine.

Oh, that I were the little wren
That shrilly chirps from yonder glen
Oh, far away I then would rove,
To some secluded bushy grove;
There hop and sing with careless glee,
Hop and sing at liberty;
And till death should stop my lays,
Far from men would spend my days.

In the “Perennial Calendar,” Dr. Forster with great taste introduces a beautiful series of quotations adapted to the season from different poets:--

_Lucretius on Spring and the Seasons, translated by Good._

Spring comes, and Venus with fell foot advanced;
Then light-winged Zephyr, harbinger beloved;
Maternal Flora, strewing ere she treads,
For every footstep flowers of choicest hue,
And the glad æther loading with perfumes
Then Heat succeeds, the parched Etesian breeze,
And dust-discoloured Ceres; Autumn then
Follows, and tipsy Bacchus, arm in arm,
And storms and tempests; Eurus roars amain,
And the red south brews thunders; till, at length,
Cold shuts the scene, and Winter’s train prevails,
Snows, hoary Sleet, and Frost, with chattering teeth.

Milton makes the most heavenly clime to consist of an eternal spring:

The birds that quire apply; airs, vernal airs,
Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune
The trembling leaves, while universal Pan,
Knit with the graces, and the hours in dance,
Led on the eternal spring.

_From Atherstone’s Last Days of Herculaneum._

Soft tints of sweet May morn, when day’s bright god
Looks smiling from behind delicious mists;
Throwing his slant rays on the glistening grass,
Where ’gainst the rich deep green the Cowslip hangs
His elegant bells of purest gold:--the pale
Sweet perfumed primrose lifts its face to heaven,
Like the full, artless gaze of infancy:--
The little ray-crowned daisy peeps beneath,
When the tall neighbour grass, heavy with dew,
Bows down its head beneath the freshening breeze;
Where oft in long dark lines the waving trees
Throw their soft shadows on the sunny fields;
Where, in the music-breathing hedge, the thorn
And pearly white May blossom, full of sweets,
Hang out the virgin flag of spring, entwined
With dripping honey-suckles, whose sweet breath
Sinks to the heart--recalling, with a sigh,
Dim recollected feelings of the days
Of youth and early love.

_From Spring, by Kleist_

Who thus, O tulip! thy gay-painted breast
In all the colours of the sun has drest?
Well could I call thee, in thy gaudy pride,
The queen of flowers; but blooming by thy side
Her thousand leaves that beams of love adorn,
Her throne surrounded by protecting thorn,
And smell eternal, form a juster claim,
Which gives the heaven-born rose the lofty name,
Who having slept throughout the wintry storm,
Now through the opening buds displays her smiling form.
Between the leaves the silver whitethorn shows
Its dewy blossoms, pure as mountain snows.
Here the blue hyacinth’s nectareous cell
To my charmed senses gives its cooling smell.
In lowly beds the purple violets bloom,
And liberal shower around their rich perfume.
See, how the peacock stalks yon beds beside,
Where rayed in sparkling dust and velvet pride,
Like brilliant stars, arranged in splendid row,
The proud auriculas their lustre show:
The jealous bird now shows his swelling breast,
His many-coloured neck, and lofty crest;
Then all at once his dazzling tail displays,
On whose broad circle thousand rainbows blaze.
The wanton butterflies, with fickle wing,
Flutter round every flower that decks the spring
Then on their painted pinions eager haste,
The luscious cherry’s blood to taste.

_Prognostics of Weather and Horologe of Flora._

FOR SPRING AND SUMMER.

From the “Perennial Calendar.”

Chickweed.--When the flower expands boldly and fully, no rain will happen for four hours or upwards: if it continues in that open state, no rain will disturb the summer’s day: when it half conceals its miniature flower, the day is generally showery; but if it entirely shuts up, or veils the white flower with its green mantle, let the traveller put on his great coat, and the ploughman, with his beasts of drought, expect rest from their labour.

Siberian sowthistle.--If the flowers of this plant keep open all night, rain will certainly fall the next day.

Trefoil.--The different species of trefoil always contract their leaves at the approach of a storm: hence these plants have been termed the husbandman’s barometer.

African marygold.--If this plant opens not its flowers in the morning about seven o’clock, you may be sure it will rain that day, unless it thunders.

The convolvulus also, and the pimpernel _anagalis arvensis_, fold up their leaves on the approach of rain: the last in particular is termed the poor man’s weather-glass.

White thorns and dog-rose bushes.--Wet summers are generally attended with an uncommon quantity of seed on these shrubs; whence their unusual fruitfulness is a sign of a severe winter.

Besides the above, there are several plants, especially those with compound yellow flowers, which nod, and during the whole day turn their flowers towards the sun: viz. to the east in the morning, to the south at noon, and to the west towards evening; this is very observable in the sowthistle _sonchus arvensis_: and it is a well-known fact, that a great part of the plants in a serene sky expand their flowers, and as it were with cheerful looks behold the light of the sun; but before rain they shut them up, as the tulip.

The flowers of the alpine whitlow grass _draba alpina_, the bastard feverfew _parthenium_, and the wintergreen _trientalis_, hang down in the night as if the plants were asleep, lest rain or the moist air should injure the fertilizing dust.

One species of woodsorrel shuts up or doubles its leaves before storms and tempests, but in a serene sky expands or unfolds them, so that the husbandman can pretty clearly foretell tempests from it. It is also well known that the mountain ebony _bauhinia_, sensitive plants, and cassia, observe the same rule.

Besides affording prognostics, many plants also fold themselves up at particular hours, with such regularity, as to have acquired particular names from this property. The following are among the more remarkable plants of this description:--

Goatsbeard.--The flowers of both species of tragopogon open in the morning at the approach of the sun, and without regard to the state of the weather regularly shut about noon. Hence it is generally known in the country by the name of go to bed at noon.

The princesses’ leaf, or four o’clock flower, in the Malay Islands, is an elegant shrub so called by the natives, because their ladies are fond of the grateful odour of its white leaves. It takes its generic name from its quality of opening its flowers at four in the evening, and not closing them in the morning till the same hour returns, when they again expand in the evening at the same hour. Many people transplant them from the woods into their gardens, and use them as a dial or a clock, especially in cloudy weather.

The evening primrose is well known from its remarkable properties of regularly shutting with a loud popping noise, about sunset in the evening, and opening at sunrise in the morning. After six o’clock, these flowers regularly report the approach of night.

The tamarind tree _parkinsonia_, the nipplewort _lapsana communis_, the water lily _nymphaea_, the marygolds _calendulae_, the bastard sensitive plant _aeschynomene_, and several others of the diadelphia class, in serene weather, expand their leaves in the daytime, and contract them during the night. According to some botanists, the tamarind-tree enfolds within its leaves the flowers or fruit every night, in order to guard them from cold or rain.

The flower of the garden lettuce, which is in a vertical plane, opens at seven o’clock, and shuts at ten.

A species of serpentine aloe, without prickles, whose large and beautiful flowers exhale a strong odour of the vanilla during the time of its expansion, which is very short, is cultivated in the imperial garden at Paris. It does not blow till towards the month of July, and about five o’clock in the evening, at which time it gradually opens its petals, expands them, droops, and dies. By ten o’clock the same night, it is totally withered, to the great astonishment of the spectators, who flock in crowds to see it.

The cerea, a native of Jamaica and Vera Cruz, expands an exquisitely beautiful coral flower, and emits a highly fragrant odour, for a few hours in the night, and then closes to open no more. The flower is nearly a foot in diameter; the inside of the calyx, of a splendid yellow; and the numerous petals are of a pure white. It begins to open about seven or eight o’clock in the evening, and closes before sunrise in the morning.

The flower of the dandelion possesses very peculiar means of sheltering itself from the heat of the sun, as it closes entirely whenever the heat becomes excessive. It has been observed to open, in summer, at half an hour after five in the morning, and to collect its petals towards the centre about nine o’clock.

Linnæus has enumerated forty-six flowers, which possess this kind of sensibility: he divides them into three classes.--1. Meteoric flowers, which less accurately observe the hour of folding, but are expanded sooner or later according to the cloudiness, moisture, or pressure of the atmosphere. 2. Tropical flowers, that open in the morning and close before evening every day, but the hour of their expanding becomes earlier or later as the length of the day increases or decreases. 3. Equinoctial flowers, which open at a certain and exact hour of the day, and for the most part close at another determinate hour.

_On Flora’s Horologe, by Charlotte Smith._

In every copse and sheltered dell,
Unveiled to the observant eye,
Are faithful monitors, who tell
How pass the hours and seasons by.

The green-robed children of the Spring
Will mark the periods as they pass,
Mingle with leaves Time’s feathered wing,
And bind with flowers his silent glass.

Mark where transparent waters glide,
Soft flowing o’er their tranquil bed;
There, cradled on the dimpling tide,
Nymphæa rests her lovely head.

But conscious of the earliest beam,
She rises from her humid nest,
And sees reflected in the stream
The virgin whiteness of her breast.

Till the bright Daystar to the west
Declines, in Ocean’s surge to lave:
Then, folded in her modest vest,
She slumbers on the rocking wave.

See Hieracium’s various tribe,
Of plumy seed and radiate flowers,
The course of Time their blooms describe,
And wake or sleep appointed hours.

Broad o’er its imbricated cup
The Goatsbeard spreads its golden rays
But shuts its cautious petals up,
Retreating from the noontide blaze.

Pale as a pensive cloistered nun,
The Bethlem Star her face unveils,
When o’er the mountain peers the Sun,
But shades it from the vesper gales.

Among the loose and arid sands
The humble Arenaria creeps;
Slowly the Purple Star expands,
But soon within its calyx sleeps.

And those small bells so lightly rayed
With young Aurora’s rosy hue,
Are to the noontide Sun displayed,
But shut their plaits against the dew.

On upland slopes the shepherds mark
The hour, when, as the dial true,
Cichorium to the towering Lark
Lifts her soft eyes serenely blue.

And thou, “Wee crimson tipped flower,”
Gatherest thy fringed mantle round
Thy bosom, at the closing hour,
When nightdrops bathe the turfy ground,

Unlike Silene, who declines
The garish noontide’s blazing light;
But when the evening crescent shines,
Gives all her sweetness to the night.

Thus in each flower and simple bell,
That in our path betrodden lie,
Are sweet remembrancers who tell
How fast their winged moments fly.

Dr. Forster remarks that towards the close of this month, the cat’s ear _hypochœris radicata_ is in flower every where; its first appearance is about the 18th day. This plant, as well as the rough dandelion, continues to flower till after Midsummer. The lilac, the barberry tree, the maple, and other trees and shrubs, are also in flower. The meadow grasses are full grown and flowering. The flowers of the garden rose, in early and warm years, begin to open.

_On a Young Rosebud in May, from the German of Goëthe._

A Rose, that bloomed the roadside by,
Caught a young vagrant’s wanton eye:
The child was gay, the morn was clear,
The child would see the rosebud near:
She saw the blooming flow’r.
My little Rose, my Rosebud dear!
My Rose that blooms the roadside near!

The child exclaimed, “My hands shall dare,
Thee, Rose, from off thy stem to tear:”
The Rose replied, “If I have need,
My thorns shall make thy fingers bleed--
Thy rash design give o’er.”
My little Rose, my Rosebud dear!
My Rose that blooms the roadside near!

Regardless of its thorny spray,
The child would tear the Rose away;
The Rose bewailed with sob and sigh,
But all in vain, no help was nigh
To quell the urchin’s pow’r.
My little Rose, my Rosebud dear!
My Rose that bloomed the roadside near!

_New Monthly Magazine._

From Dr. Aikin’s “Natural History of the Year,” the ensuing passages regarding the season will be found agreeable and useful.

On hedge-banks the wild germander of a fine azure blue is conspicuous, and the whole surface of meadows is often covered by the yellow crowfoot. These flowers, also called buttercups, are erroneously supposed to communicate to the butter at this season its rich yellow tinge, as the cows will not touch it on account of its acrid biting quality; this is strikingly visible in pastures, where, though all the grass is cropped to the very roots, the numerous tufts of this weed spring up, flower, and shed their seeds in perfect security, and the most absolute freedom from molestation by the cattle; they are indeed cut down and made into hay together with the rest of the rubbish that usually occupies a large proportion of every meadow; and in this state are eaten by cattle, partly because they are incapable of separating them, and partly because, by dying, their acrimony is considerably subdued; but there can be no doubt of their place being much better supplied by any sort of real grass. In the present age of agricultural improvement the subject of grass lands among others has been a good deal attended to, but much yet remains to be done, and the tracts of the ingenious Stillingfleet, and of Mr. Curtis, on this important division of rural economy, are well deserving the notice of every liberal farmer. The excellence of a meadow consists in its producing as much herbage as possible, and that this herbage should be agreeable and nutritious to the animals which are fed with its crop. Every plant of crowfoot therefore ought, if practicable, to be extirpated, for, so far from being grateful and nourishing to any kind of cattle, it is notorious, that in its fresh state nothing will touch it. The same may be said of the hemlock, kex, and other umbelliferous plants which are common in most fields, and which have entirely overrun others; for these when fresh are not only noxious to the animals that are fed upon hay, but from their rank and straggling manner of growth occupy a very large proportion of the ground. Many other plants that are commonly found in meadows may upon the same principles be objected to; and though the present generation of farmers has done much, yet still more remains for their successors to perform.

The gardens now yield an agreeable though immature product in the young gooseberries and currants, which are highly acceptable to our tables, now almost exhausted of their store of preserved fruits.

Early in the month the latest species of the summer birds of passage arrive, generally in the following order: fern-owl or goat-sucker, fly-catcher, and sedge-bird.

This is also the principal time in which birds hatch and rear their young. The assiduity and patience of the female during the task of sitting are admirable, as well as the conjugal affection of the male, who sings to his mate, and often supplies her place; and nothing can exceed the parental tenderness of both when the young are brought to light.

Several species of insects are this month added to those which have already been enumerated; the chief of which are the great white cabbage butterfly, capilio brassicæ; the may-chaffer, the favourite food of the fern-owl; the horse-fly, or forest-fly, so great a plague to horses and cattle; and several kinds of moths and butterflies.

Towards the end of May the bee-hives send forth their earlier swarms. These colonies consist of the young progeny, and some old ones, now grown too numerous to remain in their present habitation, and sufficiently strong and vigorous to provide for themselves. One queen bee is necessary to form each colony, and wherever she flies they follow. Nature directs them to march in a body in quest of a new settlement, which, if left to their choice, would generally be some hollow trunk of a tree. But man, who converts the labours and instincts of so many animals to his own use, provides them with a dwelling, and repays himself with their honey. The early swarms are generally the most valuable, as they have time enough to lay in a plentiful store of honey for their subsistence through the winter.

About the same time the glow-worm shines. Of this species of insect the females are without wings and luminous, the males are furnished with wings, but are not luminous; it is probable, therefore, that this light may serve to direct the male to the haunts of the female, as Hero of Sestos is said to have displayed a torch from the top of a high tower to guide her venturous lover Leander in his dangerous passage across the Hellespont:--

You (i.e. the Sylphs)
Warm on her mossy couch the radiant worm,
Guard from cold dews her love-illumined form,
From leaf to leaf conduct the virgin light,
Star of the earth, and diamond of the night.

_Darwin._

These little animals are found to extinguish their lamps between eleven and twelve at night.

Old May-day is the usual time for turning out cattle into the pastures, though frequently then very bare of grass. The milk soon becomes more copious, and of finer quality, from the juices of the young grass; and it is in this month that the making of cheese is usually begun in the dairies. Cheshire, Wiltshire, and the low parts of Gloucestershire, are the tracts in England most celebrated for the best cheese.

Many trees and shrubs flower in May, such as the oak, beech, maple, sycamore, barberry, laburnum, horse-chestnut, lilac, mountain ash, and Guelder rose; of the more humble plants the most remarkable are the lily of the valley, and woodroof in woods, the male orchis in meadows, and the lychnis, or cuckoo flower, on hedge-banks.

This month is not a very busy season for the farmer. Some sowing remains to be done in late years; and in forward ones, the weeds, which spring up abundantly in fields and gardens, require to be kept under. The husbandman now looks forward with anxious hope to the reward of his industry:--

Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious man
Has done his part. Ye fost’ring breezes, blow!
Ye soft’ning dews, ye tender show’rs descend;
And temper all, thou world-receiving sun,
Into the perfect year!

_Thomson._

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

The Horse-chestnut. _Æschylus Hippocastanum._
Dedicated to _St. Barnardine_ of Sienna.

~May 21.~

Holiday at the Public Offices.

_St. Felix_ of Cantalicio, A. D. 1587. _St. Godrick_, Hermit, A. D.
1170. _St. Hospitius_, A. D. 681.

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Ragged Robin. _Lychnis flos cuculi._
Dedicated to _St. Felix_.

~May 22.~

_St. Yvo_, A. D. 1303. _St. Basiliscus_, Bp. A. D. 312. _Sts. Castus_
and _Æmilius_, A. D. 250. _St. Bobo_, A. D. 985. _St. Conall_, Abbot.

When first the soul of Love is sent abroad,
Warm through the vital air, and on the heart
Harmonious seizes, the gay troops begin,
In gallant thought, to plume the painted wing,
And try again the long-forgotten strain,
At first faint warbled. But no sooner grows
The soft infusion prevalent and wide,
Than all alive at once their joy o’erflows
In music unconfined. Up springs the Lark,
Shrill voiced and loud, the messenger of morn;
Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunt
Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copse
Deep tangled, tree irregular, and bush
Bending with dewy moisture o’er the heads
Of the coy quoristers that lodge within,
Are prodigal of harmony. The Thrush
And Woodlark, o’er the kind contending throng
Superior heard, run through the sweetest length
Of notes, when listening Philomela deigns
To let them joy, and purposes, in thought
Elate, to make her night excel their day.
The Blackbird whistles from the thorny brake,
The mellow Bullfinch answers from the grove.
Nor are the Linnets, o’er the flowering furze
Pour’d out profusely, silent. Joined to these
Innumerous songsters, in the freshening shade
Of newsprung leaves, their modulations mix,
Mellifluous. The Jay, the Rook, the Daw,
And each harsh pipe, discordant heard alone,
Aid the full concert, while the Stockdove breathes
A melancholy murmur through the whole.
Around our heads the whitewinged Plover wheels
Her sounding flight, and then directly on,
In long excursion, skims the level lawns,
To tempt him from her nest. The Wild Duck hence:
O’er the rough moss and o’er the trackless waste
The Heath Hen flutters, pious fraud, to lead
The hot pursuing Spaniel far astray!

_Thomson._

* * * * *

FLORAL DIRECTORY.

Yellow Star of Bethlehem. _Tragopogon pratensis._
Dedicated to _St. Yvo_.

~May 23.~

_St. Julia_, 5th Cent. _St. Desiderius_, Bp. of Langres, 7th Cent.
_St. Desiderius_, Bp. of Vienne, A. D. 612.

~Whitsuntide.~

Mr. Fosbroke remarks that this feast was celebrated in Spain with representations of the gift of the Holy Ghost, and of thunder from engines, which did much damage. Wafers, or cakes, preceded by water, oak-leaves, or burning torches, were thrown down from the church roof; small birds, with cakes tied to their legs, and pigeons were let loose; sometimes there were tame white ones tied with strings, or one of wood suspended. A long censer was also swung up and down. In an old Computus, anno 1509, of St. Patrick’s, Dublin, we have iv^{s}. vii^{d}. paid to those playing with the great and little angel and the dragon; iii^{s}. paid for little cords employed about the Holy Ghost; iv^{s}. vi^{d}. for making the angel (_thurificantis_) censing, and ii^{s}. ii^{d}. for cords of it--all on the feast of Pentecost. On the day before Whitsuntide, in some places, men and boys rolled themselves, after drinking, &c. in the mud in the streets. The Irish kept the feast with milk food, as among the Hebrews; and a breakfast composed of cake, bread, and a liquor made by hot water poured on wheaten bran. The _Whitson Ales_ were derived from the _Agapai_, or love-feasts of the early Christians, and were so denominated from the churchwardens buying, and laying in from presents also, a large quantity of malt, which they brewed into beer, and sold out in the church or elsewhere. The profits, as well as those from sundry games, there being no poor rates, were given to the poor, for whom this was one mode of provision, according to the christian rule that all festivities should be rendered innocent by alms. Aubrey thus describes a Whitson Ale. “In every parish was a church-house, to which belonged spits, crocks, and other utensils for dressing provisions. Here the housekeepers met. The young people were there too, and had dancing, bowling, shooting at butts, &c. the ancients sitting gravely by, and looking on.” It seems too that a tree was erected by the church door, where a banner was placed, and maidens stood gathering contributions. An arbour, called Robin Hood’s Bower, was also put up in the church-yard. The modern Whitson Ale consists of a lord and lady of the ale, a steward, sword-bearer, purse-bearer, mace-bearer, train-bearer, or page, fool, and pipe and tabor man, with a company of young men and women, who dance in a barn.

ODE, WRITTEN ON WHIT-MONDAY

Hark! how the merry bells ring jocund round,
And now they die upon the veering breeze;
Anon they thunder loud
Full on the musing ear.

Wafted in varying cadence, by the shore
Of the still twinkling river, they bespeak
A day of jubilee,
An ancient holiday.

And, lo! the rural revels are begun,
And gaily echoing to the laughing sky,
On the smooth-shaven green
Resounds the voice of Mirth--

Alas! regardless of the tongue of Fate,
That tells them ’tis but as an hour since they,
Who now are in their graves,
Kept up the Whitsun dance;

And that another hour, and they must fall
Like those who went before, and sleep as still
Beneath the silent sod,
A cold and cheerless sleep.

Yet why should thoughts like these intrude to scare
The vagrant Happiness, when she will deign
To smile upon us here,
A transient visitor?

Mortals! be gladsome while ye have the power,
And laugh and seize the glittering lapse of joy;
In time the bell will toll
That warns ye to your graves.

I to the woodland solitude will bend
My lonesome way--where Mirth’s obstreperous shout
Shall not intrude to break
The meditative hour;

There will I ponder on the state of man,
Joyless and sad of heart, and consecrate
This day of jubilee
To sad Reflection’s shrine;

And I will cast my fond eye far beyond
This world of care, to where the steeple loud
Shall rock above the sod,
Where I shall sleep in peace.

_H. K. White._

_Whitsuntide at Greenwich._

I have had another holiday--a Whitsuntide holiday at Greenwich: it is true that I did not take a run down the hill, but I saw many do it who appeared to me happier and healthier for the exercise, and the fragrant breezes from the fine May trees of the park.

I began Whit-Monday by breakfasting on Blackheath hill. It was my good fortune to gain a sight of the beautiful grounds belonging to the noblest mansion on the heath, the residence of the princess Sophia of Gloucester. It is not a “show house,” nor is her royal highness a woman of show. “She is a noble lady,” said a worthy inhabitant of the neighbourhood, “she is always doing as much good as she can, and more, perhaps, than she ought; her heart is larger than her purse.” I found myself in this retreat I scarcely know how, and imagined that a place like this might make good dispositions better, and intelligent minds wiser. Some of its scenes seemed, to my imagination, lovely as were the spots in “the blissful seats of Eden.” Delightful green swards with majestic trees lead on to private walks; and gladdening shrubberies terminate in broad borders of fine flowers, or in sloping paths, whereon fairies might dance in silence by the sleeping moonlight, or to the chant of nightingales that come hither, to an amphitheatre of copses surrounding a “rose mount,” as to their proper choir, and pour their melody, unheard by earthly beings,

------------- save by the ear
Of her alone who wanders here, or sits
Intrelissed and enchanted as the Fair
Fabled by him of yore in Comus’ song,
Or rather like a saint in a fair shrine
Carved by Cellini’s hand.